I am inspired musically by anyone who can write a song that can bring me to tears.
Wandering flushes a glory that fades with arrival.
Cold air rises from the ground as the sun goes down. The eye-burning clarity of the light intensifies. The southern rim of the sky glows to a deeper blue, to pale violet, to purple, then thins to grey. Slowly the wind falls, and the still air begins to freeze. The solid eastern ridge is black; it has a bloom on it like the dust on the skin of a grape. The west flares briefly. The long, cold amber of the afterglow casts clear black lunar shadows. There is an animal mystery in the light that sets upon the fields like a frozen muscle that will flex and wake at sunrise.
I have always longed to be part of the outward life, to be out there at the edge of things, to let the human taint wash away in emptiness and silence as the fox sloughs his smell into the cold unworldliness of water; to return to town a stranger. Wandering flushes a glory that fades with arrival.
Vision with action can change the world.
Whatever is destroyed, the act of destruction does not vary much. Beauty if vapour from the pit of death.
There is no mysterious essence we can call a 'place'. Place is change. It is motion killed by the mind, and preserved in the amber of memory.
Nature suffers nothing to remain in her kingdom which cannot help itself.
Sometimes I feel like. . . the world is a place I bought a ticket to. It’s a big show for me, as if it wouldn’t happen if I wasn’t there with a camera.
With Halloween coming this weekend, they say not one person in the country is planning to dress up as Governor Sarah Palin. You know why?. . . The costume costs $150,000.
No family should have to depend on the labor of its children to put food on the table and no person should be forced to work in captivity.